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We’ll be away from our desks the month of August, carrying on with the non-bloggy aspects of our lives, watching mindless movie blockbusters, and indulging in summery drinks made with generous pours of bourbon. During this month, we’ll be linking each day to a different website that we ♥. Hopefully you’ll discover something delightful and new while we’re gone. If not, you are a serious Captain Crankypants and are probably in dire need of a summery drink made with a generous pour of bourbon.

‘Til September, lovelies.

The cool kids at Giant Robot and Kumquat will probably tell you that they love Thy Mai. She’s been lopping off their locks for years (Ever checked out Martin Wong? Dude has an awesome head of hair!), and recently gave me a hot (if I do say so myself) new coif before donating my old locks to eco non-profit Matter of Trust.

Mai’s a saucy, sassy, ebullient hair afficianado who may be one of the world’s best natural conversationalists. Two things I already understand about her–she loves hair, and she loves to share. It’s no wonder, then, that she’s been offering free hairstyling lessons on the web via her hair channel, to show–by working on herself–how hair dunces like me can use bobby pins and flat irons to look hotter than the Hills chicks we make fun of on this blog. Like Michelle Phan with makeup, Mai operates in realistic body positions and points out easy fixes, which makes styles more doable than daunting–a welcome alternative to walking out of the salon looking like a supamodel, only to look like a supamoron for the following six weeks until the next visit.

So okay, there are just a couple of teensy things that your big sistaz here at DISGRASIAN have to say (if we may):

First of all, we can’t condone crime, baby. That shit is not good for our collective AZN rep. Stealing is especially frowned upon (unless it’s of the spotlight, the glory, or some dirty bitch’s boyfriend) because it reads as really desperate, sad behavior. Our peeps—we aren’t desperate! We shouldn’t steal stuff cuz we should have stuff. We don’t need stuff, we’ve got good stuff. And if we want more stuff, we just do reallyreallyreally well at something and get a bunch of money and then buy that stuff. Know what we mean?

Secondly, bravo on turning yourself in. That shows a bit of penance, or at least the smarts to build leverage before you and your buddies get threatened with prison time and beaten and forced to narc like crazy on each other until y’all are facing life without the possibility of parole or something. Did your parents make you hand yourself over to the fuzz? Wait–do your parents EVEN KNOW YOU [ALLEGEDLY] ROBBED A COUPLE OF CELEBRITIES YET?!? Or do they think you’re off at college or something and just not returning phone calls about your grades? If not, whoa, sister. We don’t know you, but our spare room is open if you get released and need to hide/crash somewhere for the rest of your life. Shit.

Post-election politics have begun to resemble an episode of The Hills lately, with Obama–who is obviously Lauren Conrad–reconciling with bitter rival John McCain Monday while currently vetting best frenemy Hillary Clinton for Secretary of State. McCain is this drama’s Heidi Montag, Lauren’s former friend who started out likable and sweet but wound up, over time, becoming a lying deceitful bitch. (Heidi spreading rumors about Lauren’s alleged sex tape = The McCain camp’s allegations that Obama palled around with terrorists.) We’ve got Hillary, meanwhile, pegged as Audrina Patridge, Lauren’s on-again, off-again friend whose Significant Other always seems to be stirring up trouble between them. (Monosyllabic Justin Bobby = Overly-loquacious Bill.) Will Hillary turn down the position as Secretary of State, the way that Audrina recently turned down living with Lauren and Lo (BFF/gatekeeper Lo = Rahm Emanuel) to move out on her own? Will Bill’s ties to oil sheikhs compromise the already-tenuous friendship between Hillary and Obama the way that rumors about a Justin Bobby hook-up with Lauren hurt Lauren and Audrina? Will McCain and Obama really be able to put aside their differences to tolerate being in the same room together or–dare to dream–to be friends again, even?

I have absolutely no idea why I know that Paris Hilton spent a half hour with a fake shaman, or that Audrina Patridge even exists (and got a fake tattoo in chinaspeak spelling out “fried meat and rice” last week). I resent myself for spelling their names correctly, and to boot, spelling those names on Jen’s and my sacred blog (where they share real estate with real winners like Michelle Malkin and Tila Tequila). Yes, yes, for these things I am truly ashamed.

And okay, I’m also a little embarrassed that, like lots of other celebublog readers, I fell for both fauxperiences–worst of all, placing a call to Jen on Friday that went something like: “Dude. Audrina, that girl with the weird floating eyes on The Hills got a wack Chinese lettering tattoo. Can you read it? It’s so wrong! Take her ass to court!”

I was fooled for a minute, sure. But what annoys me more is word on the e-street that both staged photo-ops were apparently produced bits for Ass-ton Kutcher’s new “gotcha!” series, Pop Fiction–a self-rewarding, for-celebutards-by-celebutards reality show in which idiot camera whores poop the paparazzi. Because the famous-for-nothings need more reasons to congratulate themselves.

“TAKE THAT, ‘TMZ‘! Now watch me in ‘The Butterfly Effect.’”

Wow. Who orders up eight episodes of this shit? I think we should all be ashamed.